His Shortcake

Chapter 32

Dustyn Franco.

Although Emil had finally agreed to spill the beans about this Natividad character, he was adamant about getting the green light from his boss first. Even with the time difference looming over us, he picked up the phone with a practiced calm, his expression unreadable as he initiated the call.

"Sir," he said, his voice steady but cool, as he addressed Alec. The way he pronounced "Sir Dustyn" was formal and almost deferential, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. He stole a glance at me, as if gauging my reaction, before continuing, "Sir Dustyn would like to know every piece of information we have about Natividad." His gaze shifted back to me, a flicker of something—was it intrigue?—crossing his face. "And probably Amelia too."

My eyebrow arched in surprise. For ages, I had nagged him for any hint about Amelia, but he had always been tight-lipped, guarding their secrets as if they were classified intel. Yet here he was, all but offering up the information on a silver platter.

"Yes, sir. I understand," he concluded, his tone even as he handed the phone over to me.

I accepted the phone, feeling the weight of the moment. "Alec," I greeted, my voice steady, yet tinged with anticipation.

There was a brief pause on the other end before he responded, and I could almost picture him on the other side of the globe, contemplating how to play this delicate game of information.

"Listen, Dustyn. What he's about to tell you is not something I want Mara or anyone else to hear, you understand? If she's there, or anyone else, you cannot have that conversation," Alec ordered, his tone sharp and uncompromising. There was an unmistakable finality to his words, as if he were sealing an envelope that contained secrets too dangerous to be shared.

"Alec, I'm the same age as you. You don't have to treat me like a kid," I replied, my voice laced with annoyance, wishing I could roll my eyes without him seeing it. His bossy demeanor grated on me.

I could hear him sigh heavily on the other end, and in the background, a woman's voice called out for him. "Just be careful and look after Mara. I'll be back tomorrow," he said, his tone softening just slightly before the call ended abruptly, cutting me off before I could retort. "Bye," I muttered sarcastically, handing the phone back to Emil. "He's an asshole."

Emil shrugged his shoulders, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "That's why he's your best friend."

I rolled my eyes at his smart-ass comment and shifted my focus back to the matter at hand. "So, Noah Natividad?"

Emil leaned against the counter, adopting a casual demeanor as he prepared to share what he knew. "Noah Natividad is an orphan. His parents died in a mining accident when he was just seven years old. Since then, he's been raised by his uncle."

"So they own a mining company?" I asked, piecing together the details.

He nodded, his expression serious. "Yes. One of the best mining companies in the region."

"And his uncle?" I pressed, curious about the man who took him in.

"Arcelio Natividad was thirty-seven when he took Noah from the hospital. His background is shady, mostly tied to drugs. He inherited the mining company and the family's wealth, and he has control over everything Noah owns until the kid turns twenty-one," Emil explained, his tone grave as he laid out the tangled web of their lives.

"How are they related to the one who kidnapped Mara?" I asked, my mind racing as I tried to connect the dots.

"Arcelio Natividad is the kidnapper, or so we believe," Emil replied, pausing to let the gravity of his statement sink in. "Miss Mara was never able to identify her kidnapper because the police couldn't find him. That's what Sir Alec has told me."